Turnabout
by Tabitha12
Summary: Captain Daniel Gregg awakens from a hundred year dream


_**Title: Turnabout**_

_**Author: Mary**_

_**Rating: PG**_

_**Summary: Captain Daniel Gregg Awakens from a hundred-year dream.**_

_**Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir ' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions. No infringement is intended, no profit made, and they will be returned unharmed from whence they came. My story is for enjoyment only.**_

_**All other characters, plots, storylines and development of GAMM characters belong to the author and may not be used or changed without express written permission.**_

Turnabout

Captain Daniel Gregg watched Claymore's retreating figure, sighed softly, and turned to the beautiful woman in lavender standing next to him. "Well, there may be hope for him yet!"

"Well, I'm sure I have you to thank for these pearls." Carolyn Muir gazed at the Captain fondly.

"If I were alive, Madam, there would be diamonds and emeralds and palaces . . ."

"Captain," she answered, looking up at him, "if you were alive, Gull Cottage would BE a palace."

The ghost and the woman were quiet — both wanting to say things that they could not.

"Carolyn, I . . ."

"You called me Carolyn again," she said, smiling even wider than before, and then her face turned serious. "Thank-you, Captain."

_"Daniel. Please. _Will you please do me the honor of addressing me by my Christian name . . . _Carolyn?"_ And without thinking, he reached out and touched her arm. Realizing what he had just done, he took a deep breath and continued. "We need to talk."

She backed away from him then, startled and confused. "You . . . you _touched_ me! You lied. You lied about being an illusion. I can't stay here now. YOU can't stay here . . ."

The Captain reached out to draw her to him, to explain, but as he did, he felt himself being pulled away from her by an unseen force.

"Carolyn!" he cried. "I didn't lie. It's . . . It's not like that! Please, don't push me away. I want to stay here, with you . . ."

"Daniel!" Carolyn called out, but now her voice was fading as well as the figure before him._ "Oh, Daniel! Please! Oh, no! I didn't mean it! Oh, please, don't go! Don't leave me!"_

He heard a man's voice. Somehow, it was familiar . . . soothing. Like an old friend's.

"He's coming out of it, nurse."

Daniel opened his eyes and found himself in bed — in HIS bed, in the Captain's cabin of Gull Cottage. But — what was it? Everything was different. The lights were low. The walls looked dingier somehow, and curtains were covering the windows and French doors, drawn against the light. There was some illumination in the room. A soft glow. Was it — candlelight? Why was he so blasted hot? He smothered a groan and moved his hand to his forehead to wipe away the dampness. DAMPNESS? Was he _sweating?_ He moved his eyes around the room as best he could from his reclined position. The top of Carolyn's desk — HIS desk, was bare — save for a few papers and an inkwell with a feathered pen next to it. Where were the pictures of the children? Carolyn's typewriter? Everything was blurry, and the room was still tilting. Then, as his vision cleared further, he spied the retreating figure of what could only be a nurse, dressed in a long wool dress of his own period, leaving the room with a large basin, the water splashing over the sides of the container onto the wood floor.

Sitting in a straight chair, on the side of the bed was an older man — obviously a doctor by his demeanor, but his face was familiar, like that of an old family friend. On the other side of the bed was a younger man, more or less his own age. Someone he knew . . . and knew well. The younger man spoke.

"You had a rough go of it, Daniel. How are you doing, mate?"

The Captain shook himself and started to lift his head from the pillows.

"Easy, man," said the doctor, restraining him. "Sean, another pillow for our friend, here."

The seaman slowly opened and closed his eyes as his head cleared a bit more. "Where am I?" he asked, confused.

"Your malaria returned, Captain," said the doctor, placing another pillow under Daniel's head. "You're here, at Gull Cottage, in your own bedroom. You've been in fever deliriums for a week now. I'm amazed that you made it — we thought we were going to lose you a few times! But finally, around daybreak, your fever broke. You are going to be fine."

"Here?" he said, confused. "Gull Cottage? I'M ALIVE! Unbelieving, he reached behind him and touched the carved polished wood of the headboard, and dropped his hands back to his sides, feeling the scratchy wool of the blankets that covered him. Carefully, the younger man reached for his friend's hand clasped it, firmly, and Daniel got a clear look at him.

"Sean!" the Captain cried. "Sean, O'Casey! Oh, my good friend! How wonderful it is to see you again! After all these years!"

"Well, I AM Sean O'Casey, or at least I was the last time I looked!" He grinned. "And you're Daniel Gregg, mate, but you saw me only a week ago. We had a beer at Duffy's, remember?"

"This is your first mate, Captain," the doctor cut in. "And . . ."

"And you're Doctor Feeney," the Captain added. "I know you."

"That's right. Now you're with us! We have been very concerned about you, Captain. Brain fevers are not pleasant things. Tell me, man. Are you hungry?"

Daniel shook himself, and stretched, and sat up slightly in the bed. "I don't know. I am very thirsty, however."

Sean stood quickly and poured his friend a glass of water from the water pitcher on the night stand and gave it to him. "Glad to see you know me. He tapped his forehead with his finger and peered into his friend's eyes. You haven't made any sense for a week. You look a little confused, Danny-Boy."

Daniel nodded, drinking slowly. "I am, a little. What day is it?" he asked, between sips.

"Saturday," said Sean, promptly.

"No . . . I meant the date, not the day."

"Oh. It's Saturday, November twentieth."

"What year, man?"

"Year?" Sean and the doctor looked confused.

"The year, blast it! What year is it?"

"Captain, I think you better lie down again . . ." Doctor Feeney began. "You aren't well yet . . ."

"I'm fine," Daniel snapped. "Don't patronize me. I asked you a perfectly normal question."

Sean sighed, and tried to humor his friend. "Very well, Danny. It's Saturday, November twentieth, eighteen sixty-nine."

"Impossible."

"Impossible? Why is it impossible?" the doctor asked, bewildered.

"Because I died November thirteenth, that's why."

Sean O'Casey and Andrew Feeney exchanged looks. "Died?" The doctor asked.

"No, Daniel." O'Casey smiled. "You're confused, my good fellow. That was last Saturday! Your cleaning woman found you, here, on the sofa, unconscious and running a high fever. You kicked over the gas heater in your deliriums. It's a good thing she forgot her handbag and had to come back! If she hadn't, you WOULD have died! She smelt the gas, realized what had happened, turned it off and opened the French doors. The rain from the gale that night did blow in a bit and damage your floors, but considering the alternative, well, I'm sure you understand. She realized you were running a fever, along with being knocked out by the gas, left you breathing in the fresh air, jumped into her buggy, drove into town and fetched the doctor and me."

"I've been ill?"

"I told you, Captain," answered the doctor, "your malaria returned. You almost died this time. You owe a great deal to your cleaning woman, Captain. And to Sean, here, who wouldn't give up, on you, and . . ."

Daniel Gregg sighed heavily. "So it was all a . . . _a dream!"_

Sean O'Casey gave his comrade a curious look. "You sound sorry, my friend. What's wrong? You're alive. Your fever's down. You'll be fit as a fiddle in no time, and when you are, I know this lovely lass that . . ."

"No, thank-you, Sean old boy."

"Did I hear you correctly? Danny, what's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Come now. I know you better than that. What is it?"

"It doesn't matter," the seaman said, the pain obvious in his voice. "It was just a dream. It was only a blasted dream."

"It sounds like a bad one to me, from what you've said," Doctor Feeney smiled and reached for Daniel's wrist. "That's the good thing about dreams, though. They are only real for as long as they last. Hold still for a moment. I'd like to take your pulse, please."

Daniel Gregg shook his head quietly. "It was a dream, but I'm not so sure it was a bad one. I could have been quite happy spending the rest of my life in that dream!" He tugged at his beard, marveling at actually being able to feel the pull against his skin.

"Well, your pulse is steady now, but I definitely don't like all this dream business." Doctor Feeney cut in. "Captain Gregg, you need to rest."

"Rest?" the mariner snorted. "You told me I have been asleep for a week, and it feels like much longer to me!"

"It's not the same thing," The doctor shook his head. "I'll be right back." Getting up, he left the bedroom.

"Danny?" Sean asked, tentatively, from the other side of the bed. "What about this dream? I've never seen you look so . . . so disturbed." He hesitated. "This is more than fever-induced hallucinations. I think you need to talk about it."

"Maybe I do," Daniel replied. "Maybe if I do, I can forget about her . . . IT . . . and go on about my business."

"Well you aren't going to get very much talking done right now," said the doctor, coming back into the room carrying a small glass filled with a light brown liquid. "Here. Drink this."

"What is it?" Daniel asked tiredly, doing as he was told. He made a face and stopped drinking.

"Willow Bark Golden Elixir, of course," the medical man said. "You know, Captain. It's the proven cure for malaria and the Ague."

"I know," the seaman answered back. "I've made it myself."

The doctor's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Who did you make Willow Bark for? No, never mind. I don't want to know. In that case, you'll remember it should take effect in about twenty minutes."

"I'd be interested in knowing for whom, myself," Sean remarked, calmly. "Daniel, what have you been up to?"

Daniel shook his head again. "Never mind. She doesn't live here — not now."

"I see . . ." he said, trying to understand.

"No, you don't." The seaman answered him quickly. "But I cannot really expect you to."

"I need to leave for a while, O'Casey," Doctor Feeney interjected. "I haven't been home for two days and I simply must rest. My nurse needs rest, too. We'll both be back to see you this evening, Captain. In the meantime . . ." He turned to Daniel's shipmate. " . . . Get your friend here to go to sleep. I imagine he will be awake again in a few hours. Perhaps he will be a little more coherent then."

"I would appreciate it, Doctor . . ." Daniel growled, ". . . If you would stop talking about me as if I wasn't here. I'm not an imbecile."

"I beg your pardon, Captain. Rest well, sir." The doctor bowed and left.

Sean O'Casey waited until the older man was gone and then went to the bedroom door and closed it. After several moments, he opened it again quietly and peered down the hall. Closing the door again, he went to the French windows, drew aside the curtain, looked through the telescope, watching as Doctor Feeney and the nurse left. Satisfied, he came back to the chair by Daniel's bedside. "Everyone's gone, me-boyo. All right, Danny-Boy, what is it?"

"What's what?"

"What you dreamed, man. You obviously want to tell me about it, and you have the time. You know Willow Bark always takes longer to work on you than on most people."

"You're right. I'd forgotten."

"So, tell me, Danny. Your dream. You said you . . . died?"

Daniel nodded. "A week ago. The night you said my cleaning woman found me."

"Interesting. Well, that certainly disproves all those old wives' tales."

Daniel settled a little deeper under the covers. "What tales?"

"You know! The myths that say if you experience death in a dream, you die in real life." Sean tilted back in his chair and propped his feet up on the end of Daniel's bed. "Now then. Tell me, old chap, how did you . . . die?"

"I told you."

"No you didn't. Now tell me."

"Very well. I came home last Saturday night after I had that beer with you." The seaman paused. "Did we have dinner?"

"No, Danny. That alone should have told me that something was wrong. Very unlike you to skip a meal! What then? Can you remember?"

Daniel Gregg rubbed his forehead fretfully. "I came home. My cleaning woman had already left. I was tired, achy, but not sleepy, so I decided to read for a while. There was a Sou'west gale coming up — blowing straight in the windows, and down the chimney. I closed the windows, but I couldn't get a fire started, so I turned on the gas heater, thinking I would read for a while and then go to bed. The nearest I can recollect, I nodded off on the couch. It must have been the malaria that made me sleep. As I told . . . that is, I must have kicked the gas heater. An inane thing to do. I should never have turned the blasted thing on, knowing it wasn't working properly! But because the windows were closed, the gas couldn't escape, I inhaled it instead and died. The next thing I knew, I heard a noise, stood up, and then looked down and saw my own lifeless form sprawled out on the couch."

"You say it so calmly! I would have been terrified!" Sean shuddered.

"Oh, Sean, I was!" Daniel smiled. "But remember, I've had one-hundred-and-one years, so to speak, to get used to the idea."

"You have a point." Sean agreed. "But tell me, you said you became a ghost, and that means you were unhappy when you died, or had unfinished business, or were punished by God. If you haunted your house, why did you do it, Daniel? I refuse to believe that the Almighty wouldn't to allow you entrance to heaven."

"I keep forgetting," said Daniel. "You don't know. For you, my death never happened. Sean, I CHOSE not to cross over."

"But why?"

"Because I died before my time. My life was unfinished, and what is more important, my death was called a suicide! That blasted cleaning woman of mine testified for the coroner's jury at the hearing, saying that my death with the gas had to be a suicide because I always slept with my windows open. I never did understand that! Why would they take her word for it? How the devil would SHE know how I slept? I never slept with her!"

"Easy, Danny," Sean soothed his friend. "Drink the rest of your medicine, and try not to excite yourself. You haven't been well. What else happened? In your dream, I mean?"

"Lucias Finley splashed the gory details of my so-called 'suicide' all over the front page of the Schooner Bay Beacon. I couldn't rest with everyone in the town thinking that I killed myself! I was determined to somehow get that libel righted. Besides, I died without a will — which reminds me, I want my solicitor here TOMORROW. That's one mistake I won't repeat. I want to make a will leaving Gull Cottage to Schooner Bay, for a seaman's home."

"Admirable idea," his friend smiled. "But tomorrow is Sunday. You'll have to wait until Monday morning."

Daniel sighed. "I was almost too late the first time around. I didn't get that matter taken care of for more than a hundred years."

"I'd love to hear about that!" Sean smiled. "Sleepy yet, Danny?"

"No, not really," Daniel answered. "I need to talk. I'm torn between wanting to tell you everything I can remember about my dream before it fades away, and wanting to fall asleep again, and going back to where I was, with . . . in nineteen-seventy."

"Nineteen-seventy!" Sean whispered, with awe. "It sounds so . . . far away! Tell, me, Daniel. You were 'there' so to speak. What did you dream? What was the future like? What happened to Gull Cottage?" He looked alarmed. "They didn't tear it down, did they?"

"Of course not." Daniel shook his head. "A second cousin on my mother's side inherited and lived my house. I couldn't stop him — I hadn't been a spirit for very long and could do nothing to chase anyone away. Besides, I had to let them live there. I couldn't let the house be sold to anyone not in the Gregg family. I wasn't really sure what would happen to me if I didn't. For the first sixty years of my ghostly existence, I spent more time in my wheelhouse, the attic, than anywhere else, and learned how to handle my powers. It took a long time, that! I will never forget the first time I figured out how to lift a pen again! Then everything became easier."

"Easier, Daniel? Please, continue."

"During the next sixty years, other Gregg descendants lived in my house. Finally I was able to start chasing them away — 'Haunting' the place, so to speak. I was much happier without humans around, and I learned to use more of my powers. Gull Cottage remained unoccupied after the Korean War . . ."

"War!" Sean was instantly alert. "WHAT war? There was another war?" Sean asked, fascinated.

"Oh yes," the seaman said sadly. "Several. Two, what were called 'World Wars.' One with Germany, and one with Japan, after the Japanese Air Force bombed Hawaii — "

"Bombs? Hawaii? _Air Force?"_

"I suppose you would have to be there to truly understand," the seaman said. "The Japanese Air Force bombed Honolulu, Hawaii on the morning of December seventh, nineteen forty-one. The United States had a military base there. President Roosevelt announced that the United States was officially at war, and it didn't end until four years later when Japan surrendered in September of nineteen forty-five. Hawaii became the fiftieth state in the United States in nineteen fifty-nine . . ."

"Fifty states in the United States of America . . ." Sean let out a low whistle. "There are only thirty-seven states now! Wait a minute! How on earth could a ship sneak up on an island and attack it?" he asked, more intrigued by the moment.

Daniel shook his head. "No, no. It wasn't a ship that attacked; it was done by air. With bombs," Daniel said, sitting up further in his bed. "Bombs are a thousand times more powerful than cannonballs. One bomb dropped in just the right place could blow a ship to kingdom come . . . and has."

"Dropped? You mean, fired from cannons — Right, Daniel?"

"No . . . dropped from machines that fly through the air! In my dream, one hundred years has seen a remarkable headway in mankind's scientific abilities. That is if you can call mankind still making war an advancement."

"And you learned about all these things . . . how?" Sean asked.

"After I died, I collected information third and fourth-hand — through old newspapers I found blowing around Gull Cottage, and later from books, the radio, and later television."

"Tele-vision? Ra-dio?" Sean said slowly. "What are they?"

"Never mind," said Daniel. "I'll explain later."

"Television, flying machines, bombs, and war. It sounds awful. And you are mourning leaving such an existence in this dream of yours?" Sean shuddered. "I cannot think, Danny, why you want to remember your dream at all."

"There were good things in my dream, too, Sean."

"All right. There were good things. Then tell me about them."

"Well, for one thing technology, particularly medicine, took a huge step forward."

"For example?" Sean asked, stretching his hands over his head.

"Penicillin! A wonder drug, Sean! It cures infections, illnesses, like the Ague, for instance, overnight. One or two pills and one is practically cured of the illnesses we die of now! It's marvelous!"

"It sounds like it could be!" His friend nodded. "What else was there?"

"There's the telephone. It's like the telegraph, but instead of written messages transferred over wires in code, it's your voice! It was invented in eighteen seventy-six, I believe. For example, your mother in Boston could use the instrument to call you, here, in Schooner Bay, simply by dialing numbers, assigned only to your house where you have the same instrument. But her voice is as clear is if she were speaking from the next room. And it doesn't have to be from far away, either. Everyone has them. If there were here now, my cleaning woman wouldn't have had to go GET Doctor Feeney when she found me, she just would have used the telephone and call him to come."

"Marvelous!" Sean cried, "Tell me more."

"Food preservation is better. Mostly because of electric powered iceboxes. Don't ask me to explain electricity. It's a form of power that was discovered. But there was no more need to have ice delivered by wagon every day. Automobiles! Horseless carriages that run on liquid fuel, not coal, or wood. Airplanes! I mentioned them. You and a hundred other people travel through the air, all in one conveyance, rather like an airship, and move from one state to another. Why, Martha went from Maine to California in only a few hours — a trip that would have taken months . . ."

"Martha?" Sean asked sharply. "Who the devil is Martha?"

"Never mind," the seaman replied. "Later. Let me see — Electric lights, powered like the refrigerators and many other newfangled gadgets. All the houses have them. But no more candles. I don't approve of electric lights. They're harsh, and unnatural, although, I must say, I do like the way the little ones look on Christmas trees! Much safer than candles, in that instance, too."

"And?" Sean pressed, more and more caught up in his friend's story.

"Indoor plumbing! Indoor bathing! No more going outside to the privy when it's raining or snowing, or emptying chamber pots after nature has called at two in the morning, or taking a bath in the cold sea! Water, wherever you want it, and it is always fresh, and hot, when necessary." He paused. "And the ballpoint pen!"

"What is a ballpoint pen?" Sean looked at his friend as if he were daft.

Daniel shrugged. "What I said. It's a pen, with a nub that's a tiny ball. The barrel of the pen is filled with special ink that can write and write without you having to dip it in an inkwell at all. The ink is all inside the pen."

"Oh, come now!" Sean scoffed. "Now I know you were dreaming!"

"You asked," Daniel grumbled.

"Tell me Danny, in your dream, did anything from eighteen-sixty-nine remain?"

"Gull Cottage," the seaman said staunchly. "My home, and my things. Most of them. Except for the items my so-called descendants stole from me and sold."

"Hmm," Sean frowned.

Daniel Gregg sighed. "There aren't any more sailing ships. No, that's not right. There are some, but they are kept around as more of a curiosity than anything else. Ships are all engine-powered in a hundred years. I was on one once. The dandies in their white pants that captain them think they are doing something incredible. No grace, no style to the blasted things. It's a travesty to call them a ship. Why do modern men go to sea at all?" He shook his head. "Oh, yes. Speaking of voyages, in nineteen sixty-nine, one hundred years from now, man went to the moon."

"No!" Sean gasped. "And they went, how? In the airplane?"

"No, but you're close. In a rocket. Rockets are like airplanes, but they fly much faster. Look, Sean . . ." Daniel looked sheepish and tugged his ear. "I know I sound like a lunatic. You don't have to keep humoring me."

"Nonsense," his friend smiled. "The sooner you tell me about this fantasy of yours, the sooner you will start feeling better. You need to purge your mind, Danny-boy, so talk away! So . . ." Sean asked. " . . . In your dream, did people live on the moon?"

"Heavens, no. There were only two voyages there. The moon is barren — a rock in space. No life at all. You can't even breathe on the moon without newfangled inventions to help you. How much things have changed in one hundred years, Sean! Many things from our time just disappeared. Wonderful things. Hand-churned butter, cotillions, leisurely strolls along the boulevard, and afternoons with someone you . . . well . . . that's not _entirely_ true." The mariner stared silently at the ceiling.

Sean eyed his friend. "Sounds like you have more to tell me."

"Nothing I can't tell you later."

"Are you sleepy?"

"Heading in that direction."

"Hey! Daniel!" Sean snapped his fingers. "What about the women? What were the women like in your dream?"

"Women!" Daniel grinned. "I suppose they are the one constant in the universe. For all that they changed, the women were still totally, eternally female!"

"Now that's a statement, my friend! Would you care to explain?"

Daniel yawned again. "Somewhere along the line in the last century, women became more independent. I think it was because during wartime, while the men were away, women started working outside the home, doing the jobs their men couldn't do because they were busy fighting. And women wore trousers! Even after the war was over and the men came home, women STILL continued to work — because they wanted to, and they, in turn, told their daughters it was all right. And you should how nineteen-seventies' women dress! Why, their skirts come up past their knees!"

Sean's grey eyes widened at the very thought. "No, Danny! Do say you're joking!"

"Not very likely! Not only that, but by then, women were serving in the military, AND they held jobs such as ministers, doctors, lawyers, and mechanics. They were given the right to vote in the nineteen twenties, and they have even run for and held political office!"

"Politics is a man's domain, Daniel. I don't think I would be happy in nineteen-seventy," Sean remarked, decidedly.

"But still, with all their 'liberation,' they called it, they still appreciate having doors opened for them!" Daniel chuckled. "I think it's something that takes getting used to. After all, it didn't happen overnight!" The seaman yawned. "Sean, if you don't mind, I think I would like to go to sleep now. The Willow Bark is starting to take hold."

"Oh . . . of course man. You aren't here to keep me entertained!" Sean stood up and stretched again. "Get some sleep, Daniel. I'll check on you in a few hours, but will you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Don't forget the rest of your dream, Danny. There's more to your story, and I want to hear about it."

"You have my word, Sean." Daniel Gregg yawned again and closed his eyes. "I'm hoping I will be back in nineteen-seventy as soon as I fall asleep."

"I had a feeling that was the case, Daniel." Sean turned down the lamp and headed for the door. "Pleasant dreams, my friend."

Twilight was falling when Daniel Gregg slowly started to wake.

"Hey, me-boyo!" Sean O'Casey said, pulling aside the curtains covering the French windows. "It's going to be a beautiful sunset. How did you sleep? Are you hungry yet, man? Any more dreams to tell me about?"

"You are entirely too cheerful," Daniel growled. "Yes . . ." he said, a little astonished. "I AM hungry! I haven't been truly hungry in one-hundred . . ."

"The nurse just brought up some beef broth for you." Sean O'Casey gestured to the soup, sitting on a tray on the night stand by Daniel's bed. " . . . And mutton for me. It smells good, doesn't it?" Sean took an appreciative sniff, grinned and tipped back in his chair.

"Have you been here this whole time?" Daniel Gregg queried, as he sat up straighter and reached sideways for the savory smelling broth, settling it on his lap.

"Yes." Sean stopped chewing for a moment. "I've been making my berth on that couch over there for a week now. It's a little lumpy, but I've slept in far worse places." Sean continued to eat, taking large bites of his sandwich. "You know, Doctor Feeney has one mighty fine little nurse there, and she also happens to be a very good cook." Smiling, he took yet another bite. "Eat, Danny. You need to get your strength back."

Daniel started eating, and for a while, the two men were silent.

"Well, Daniel . . ." O'Casey said, blotting his mouth on a napkin and reaching for his drink which was sitting on the floor by his chair. "Why don't you tell me more about your dream? About the future?" Daniel's fellow seaman looked eager. "Did you dream more about it when you were asleep?"

The seaman shook his head. "No. Nothing. I dreamed of nothing."

"Then why don't you tell me more about your other dream?"

"You were right, Sean. This beef broth IS good," Daniel said, ignoring his friend's question. He stared into the bowl he had almost finished.

"Something's still troubling you, my friend."

"I never could keep much from you, mate."

"Not very likely, Danny-Boy. I've known you too long — ever since we ran away to sea together at fourteen. Now, come, man. Tell me."

"Well," the seaman said reluctantly, "after almost one hundred years of haunting Gull Cottage, things were fine. I was master of my castle and if not thrilled with my existence, at least comfortable with it. Then that mindless sea-slug of a so-called great-nephew of mine showed up and told me he had rented MY house!"

"Nephew? What nephew?"

"Claymore Gregg! He called himself my great-nephew, but he's no kin of mine!" Daniel growled. "Not that insipid, weak-kneed . . ."

"Wait a minute, Daniel!" Sean stopped him. "People lived in your house after you died. You said so. You weren't angry about it then," he said puzzled, forgetting his friend was telling him about his dream, not really speaking of his afterlife.

"Oh, yes I was!" Daniel snarled. "I just wasn't ABLE to stop people from living there. I told you. I didn't have the same powers when I first became a spirit. It took a long time to develop them. Besides," he said thoughtfully, "When the first and second world wars were going on, and the Korean War, there were always people, families, wives, separated from their husbands, looking for somewhere to live, so I let them stay then. I felt it was my patriotic duty, somehow. But the last occupant moved out after the Korean War ended in nineteen fifty-three, and the house remained empty for fifteen years. People tried to lease it a few times after that, but I made sure they didn't stay."

"Then why did you let Claymore lease the house?"

"He told me that if he didn't that the government would tear the house down and take the land for the property taxes that were due on it that he HADN'T paid."

"So, he more or less forced you to let Gull Cottage."

"Yes, but by the following morning, I had 'convinced' Claymore to cancel the lease, but he pointed out, between fainting spells, that he couldn't call things off at precisely that moment because the renters were en-route from Philadelphia, and he had no way to reach them. But he promised me he would void the lease, take the house off the market, get the tax money from 'somewhere,' and that would be the end of it."

"But that's not what happened?"

"No. The next day after the idiot told me the news, SHE showed up." The seaman's face softened. "Carolyn showed up with her two children, Candy and Jonathan, her blasted dog and her bossy housekeeper, in her automobile, packed to the gills with their pitiful belongings, and wormed her way into my . . . afterlife."

Sean smiled. "Well, you obviously didn't chase her away as you told your great-nephew you would! What changed your mind?"

"That parsimonious pipsqueak was NOT my great-nephew!" Daniel roared.

"All right then, Claymore." Sean soothed him. "The next morning, this woman arrived at Gull Cottage?"

Daniel nodded. "They arrived at about nine in the morning. The moment Carolyn was out of the car, she said what a "dear, sweet, gentle, lovely house" it was. That DID please me — Most of the villagers just referred to it as "that old haunted house." Claymore pulled up right after that. He had the house-keys, you see. To his credit, he did try to give her back her deposit check, saying that the cottage was much too isolated for her and her children to stay in alone, and the deal was off, but Carolyn insisted that they had a lease and that they were staying, maintaining that Gull Cottage would be the perfect place to raise her children — and write."

"She sounds like the stubborn type," Sean grinned.

Daniel smiled, agreeing, and continued. "Claymore knuckled under, of course, and let Carolyn into the house . . . babbling the whole time about and noises and strange occurrences, and he even told her the place was haunted, but she wouldn't listen to him."

"You could have scared the whole family away right then," Sean pointed out. "Created a thunderstorm? Made sure the front door couldn't be opened? Made the stone lions roar, or something?"

"I suppose so!" Daniel adjusted his blankets and looked thoughtful for a few moments. "Truthfully, I suppose I WAS curious about these people who had descended upon me. They had traveled a long way and she DID say how much she liked the house, without even seeing the inside of it."

"In short, you were soft-hearted and let them in," Sean said.

Daniel nodded. "But I wasn't going to allow them to STAY! I made myself visible to Jonathan, the woman's son, first. He was only six at the time, but he was also the only male in the family. I told him that I was a ghost and that Gull Cottage was mine, and that he and his mother and sister would have to leave. He just nodded and said he would 'talk to his mom about it.'"

Sean chuckled. "And then?"

"Well, then Carolyn made more complimentary remarks about me, my house, and . . ."

"You?" Sean O'Casey asked. "And you made yourself known to her, then, too?"

"No, she admired my portrait."

"The one downstairs, that was delivered only a fortnight ago?"

"Yes. She called me 'magnificent!'" The seaman preened a bit, stroking his moustache. "One-hundred years later, my portrait was hanging just where it is now — It was one thing Claymore never tried to steal and sell. Anyway . . ." he continued. "I tried to be gentle, but still get them out. After all it was women and children I was dealing with. I didn't want to frighten them into fits. I scared away the painter that came to paint the living room, and generally made mischief all that day, but the woman refused to budge, and by that evening, they had performed miracles with the place. That night, I created a thunderstorm around Gull Cottage, and made sure the blasted electric lights weren't working, but Carolyn only put candles all around and tucked the children up for the night in the bedroom next to my cabin, and — did I tell you? She appropriated MY cabin as her own! I couldn't have that, of course, so when she came downstairs to lock up the house, I opened the windows and let in the rain."

"I take it that didn't work, either?" Sean asked.

"Not on your life!" Daniel Gregg said, another half-smile coming to his face. "Instead of turning tail and running, as I was so used to Claymore doing, she locked the windows again and dared me to show my face!"

Sean laughed. "Sounds like a woman with spunk! A real Amazon!"

Daniel laughed with him. "Aye! She was, at that — but Amazon, no. She is . . . WAS a tiny little thing — only about five foot two or three. Anyway, I didn't appear to her when dared me, as much as I wanted to, but then she had the nerve to call me a cowardly ghost! I couldn't let that remark go unanswered! If she had been a man, you know what I would have done next!"

"Now, Danny. I know you didn't do anything unseemly to a woman!"

"Of course not," Daniel said, a bit defensively. "I merely told her to light the blasted candle and I appeared in front of her!"

"Did she faint?"

"No . . . much to my surprise, she didn't!" Daniel said, grinning. "And she didn't run either. She stood her ground and refused to leave, in spite of my wishes. Then, after we argued, she . . . Well, she started crying, and told me she knew she belonged at Gull Cottage and that the house wanted her to rescue it from being lonely, and well, I weakened, and told her she could stay — on trial!" Daniel started laughing. "Do you know what she did then?"

"Not go up to bed, I'll wager," Sean said with a twinkle, amused at the thought of a 'mere woman' getting the best of Daniel Gregg.

"Heaven's, no! She asked me when I could be packed! She was going to turn me out on the beach! When I told her I was not leaving under any terms, she packed up her family instead, bag and baggage, at nine o'clock at night, and left! I still don't know where she thought she was going! Of course, I couldn't have that, and I brought the car back. Invisibly, of course!"

"Of course . . ."

"Carolyn agreed to stay, knowing I wouldn't be leaving, and I agreed she could stay and I wouldn't try to drive her out, and we would see how things went for a while. I knew from that first night forward that she was a woman to be reckoned with and that my afterlife would never be the same. If only . . ." Daniel stopped speaking and stared into his soup bowl, rolling around the last of the liquid. "Once I told her she could stay, we spent quite a bit of time that first year getting to know each other. My house was much better off being occupied, than laying fallow, and the longer she and her family remained, the more I knew how much I had missed having people about. Carolyn told me once that sometimes people are lonely without admitting it, not even to themselves, and she was right."

Sean nodded. "It must have been beneficial for her too — having a place to stay that wasn't terribly expensive. Didn't her late husband leave her any kind of income?"

"If he did, she never mentioned it. By then the U.S. Government had established a pension fund for widows and orphans, so she was entitled to that, but it wasn't enough for anyone to live on comfortably. In fact, Carolyn told me once that she received LESS of a pension, being a widow that had worked before and during her marriage than she would if she had never worked at all. That never seemed fair to me. It's almost as if the government was punishing a woman for being bright."

"Carolyn was really able to support herself, her family and her housekeeper just by writing stories?" Sean asked. "Like that woman-author I have heard of just recently — Louisa . . . Alcott, is it? Carolyn wrote books?"

"No," Daniel answered. "She wrote short stories and articles for magazines, newspapers, periodicals and the like. She was excellent at it, too," he added. "But as I was saying, we spent a lot of time our first year getting to know each other. I fear I had more to learn than she did! Carolyn was starting a new life in a new town, but I was becoming exposed, in some ways, not just to a new century, but to a whole new way of . . . life."

Sean O'Casey tipped further back in his chair. "You're sounding very introspective, Danny-Boy."

"And YOU better watch your balance!" His friend grinned. "I may have been ill, but I DO remember how many times you have gone over backwards doing that!" And the seaman shrugged. "I'm not trying to sound introspective. I don't have to tell you any more if you aren't interested."

"On the contrary!" his friend said. Sean settled all four chair legs on the floor, got up and went to Daniel's desk, searching for vellum, pen and ink. "I should be writing this down, Danny. It would make a wonderful sensation story!"

"You and your scribbles! You can if you want to," he said, sounding indifferent to the whole matter. "Although, personally I really don't know whether anyone else would really enjoy it, except as the novelty of listening to a raving mind." The seaman shook his head. "No, Sean, I'm telling you this because you are my best friend. I wouldn't want the world at large to think I have lost my senses."

"You talk, I'll write," his friend said, settling himself again. "I'll catch up on that first part you told me later. Now then. Carolyn and the children moved in, and you made an agreement. So then what happened?"

"Well, we . . . learned to exist together, I guess you could say," Daniel answered. "You really couldn't call it LIVING together! But it didn't take me long to realize that I DID miss the company of others, and slowly but surely, instead of just being a bystander, an observer, and living a quiet and peaceful afterlife in total solitude, I became part of a family. An unconventional one, perhaps, but a family just the same."

"'Unconventional' is a good word for it," Sean smiled. "You weren't married to the lady, and if what you have indicated is true, the little girl . . . what did you say her name was again?"

"Candace. Candy."

"Pretty name . . . and the housekeeper didn't even know you were there."

"True, but Carolyn and Jonathan did."

"And your 'nephew . . .'" Sean grinned.

"I TOLD you, that water rat was NOT my nephew!"

"All right, Claymore. He knew you were there also."

"True, but I didn't have to live with him!"

"So . . ." Sean continued. "You had people living in your house and you talked to them, instead of haunting them. You had a life again, Danny . . . sort of!" he added quickly, seeing Daniel's scowling face.

"Yes . . ." the seaman said softly, " . . . I did, and although I wouldn't have admitted it to ANYONE at first, I had every intention of enjoying it."

"As in . . . ?" Sean asked, his pen scratching furiously. "Don't speak too quickly, Danny. I have to keep up with you, and I can only write so fast."

"Carolyn used to say that . . ." The seaman's eyes were soft. "She and her crew had been moved in but a fortnight or so when we had overnight guests for the first time . . . a stranded couple on their way to get married. Claymore married them (he was a justice of the peace) here at Gull Cottage later the same evening. I wondered many times after that what happened to them, but I never heard anything. The bride wore Carolyn's wedding dress. How I wish I could have seen Carolyn in it!"

"I thought you didn't believe in marriage," Sean said quietly, looking up from his writing.

"Soon after that, I managed to trick Claymore into making some repairs around Gull Cottage, using his own greed against him," the Captain said quickly, ignoring Sean's comment, "and a few weeks later, some idiot ghost chaser broke into Gull Cottage trying to prove I was there. Carolyn and I had our first quarrel over that incident! But, eventually, we routed the rascal."

"We?" Sean asked, pausing to dip his quill pen in the ink once more.

"All of us," Daniel smiled. "Carolyn, the children, and even Martha helped root him out. We had a great deal of fun, actually." Daniel stretched. Then, suddenly, he sat up straighter in his bed.

"Do you know that a hundred years from now the deluded citizens of Schooner Bay wanted to make a hero out of that poltroon Horatio Figg? They were going to erect a statue to honor him! His great, great grandniece instigated the scheme. It took some doing, but I set them straight! Damn difficult after one hundred years! First I searched all over Schooner Bay for the poltroon's gravestone and finally found it on the grounds of his old home, near Gull Cottage. I had to clean it up, of course!"

"His gravestone?" Sean asked.

"Yes. During a little outing of the Schooner Bay Historical Society the next day, I caused a rainstorm that washed away the muck covering the last line of the marker. Jonathan told me later that he thought I had carved it!"

"What last line, Daniel?"

"Oh, you know — what we joked about ever since the battle of Vera Cruz — When duty called, he did not hesitate . . ."

". . . He ran like hell!" Sean finished, laughing. "Of course! You mean to say Figg's descendants actually carved that on his tombstone? Marvelous! I love it! When did he die?"

"I forgot to check!" Daniel frowned. "Silly of me. It was after I died, I know that! I was really more concerned with setting the record straight and making sure that . . . that sot wasn't turned into a champion."

"It sounds like everything was going well for you and your new family," Sean remarked, waving a sheet of vellum in the air to dry.

"They were until I almost ruined it!" Daniel said ruefully. "Do you remember Vanessa Hamilton?"

"You're not still mooning over her like a sick pup, are you? I thought you were past that ages ago!" Sean said contemptuously, and looked at his friend. "A more spoiled little chit I never did meet! Don't tell me HER ghost showed up at Gull Cottage too?"

"No!" Daniel stopped him. "Her great, great granddaughter inherited the letters I wrote to my Vanessa when we were still betrothed, and she came to Gull Cottage looking for the letters her grandmother wrote to me. I'm afraid I DID act like a schoolboy when I first saw her though! She was so much like my Vanessa! She was sweet and dreamy and such a reminder of my youth! I cannot believe how close I came to throwing away everything I had with Carolyn just to re-live a past that had died long before I did! I even asked Carolyn to think up an excuse and give Vanessa . . . Peekskill, her name was, her grandmother's shawl on my behalf."

"Oh Daniel . . ." Sean moaned softly. "You didn't! My friend, that was not a smart idea."

"I know!" said Daniel, nodding. "The only excuse I can offer for that is I just wasn't thinking clearly at the time. Carolyn was so upset at my infatuation that she was ready to turn the house over to Vanessa and move, just like that. Fortunately I came to my senses. I was able to stop Carolyn without saying in so many words that . . ."

"You didn't just TELL Carolyn you wanted her to stay?"

"No, but I did figure out a way to get Vanessa's granddaughter to leave without scaring her away, and I offered Carolyn the shawl that she had left behind. She very gracefully accepted it." Daniel shook his head. "No Sean. I couldn't ask Carolyn to stay and 'live' with me. She was mortal. I was only a spirit. I told Carolyn the first night she arrived at Gull Cottage that if she really wanted to leave, Iwouldn't be able to stop her — and it was true. Thank God I don't think Carolyn ever REALLY wanted to leave after that first night!"

"After that incident, did you and Carolyn get along any better? Worse?" Sean prodded; almost forgetting that the story he was hearing wasn't 'real.' And he started scribbling on yet another sheet of paper.

"Better! And what times we had!" Daniel's blue eyes twinkled. "After twenty years, I managed to teach my so-called nephew a few new lessons, I lived through a visit from Carolyn's Uncle Arnold, who told jokes that were older than my grandfather, and I even managed to find out a few things I know I never would have learned about if Carolyn and the children and Martha hadn't come to Gull Cottage. Did you know, for instance that one hundred years from now actors are admired and RESPECTED? It's true! Carolyn actually appeared in a local play in Schooner Bay, directed by that numbskull Claymore. It didn't hurt her reputation one iota!"

"It sounds to me like you had a somewhat idyllic relationship with your family," said Sean, a touch enviously. "You could be at home all the time — not away on a voyage . . ."

"Idyllic?" Daniel snorted. "To look upon Carolyn's beautiful face day after day and not be able to tell her how much I cared for her? For all of them? Besides, Sean, believe me, we had our disagreements! By far, the most difficult thing we faced during that first year is when Carolyn decided that she had to redo the house. I tried to be patient, I really didn't want her to leave, but she scuttled some of my favorite belongings! That sofa by the front door I brought back from Madrid, for instance. Females! In some ways, they never change. They'll tell you one moment that they like you just the way you are and then they spend the rest of their lives trying to change you."

Daniel's face suddenly lit up. "My tree! Daniel cried. My Monkey-Puzzle tree! Where is it?"

"Outside, on the front lawn, where it's been since the day that you planted it!" Sean answered, bewildered.

"And my chart rack? My gift from Admiral Schnedaker?"

"In the alcove, naturally! What are you riled up about now?"

"They're still here!" The seaman smiled blissfully. "I haven't lost them. They're here! Carolyn gave them away, you see. The couch, my chart rack, that breakfront . . ." His face darkened. "But it would seem I have lost something much more important. I've lost my family. I've lost Carolyn and Jonathan and Candy and Martha and Scruffy, and I'd give up my tree and any other belongings you could name if only I could still have my family near me!" and his voice almost broke.

"Danny . . ."

"I know, my friend," Daniel said, shaking himself. "Carolyn is a dream, a delusion, a figment of my fevered imagination! Sean?"

"Yes, my dear fellow?"

"Would you mind getting me some more water? That fever has taken its toll on me, I'm afraid. I am still blasted thirsty."

"Of course," his friend nodded. "I should have asked you if you needed some sooner." Sean was back in just a few minutes and he poured a fresh glass for his friend and placed the pitcher on the night stand. "So Carolyn took your tree?" he asked, coaxing his friend to continue with his tale.

"Had it chopped down," Daniel nodded. "Claimed it was dangerous. 'Too close to the house,' she said. I left Gull Cottage for about a day after it happened. I was incredibly hurt — She just would not listen to my suggestions! Finally, toward the end of the day, Carolyn went all the way to Boston to find me another tree. In the meantime, I found the window in the living room that the tree branch had broken, and then I understood more of what was bothering her. The Monkey-Puzzle Tree Carolyn brought home was a pitiful specimen at best, but she did go to a good deal of trouble, and I had come to understand something of her arguments as well, so I forgave her. It was not a happy few days for either of us, but we weathered that storm together, and many others!"

Daniel Gregg was silent for a moment and then he laughed to himself.

"What's so funny?" Sean asked.

"I was just thinking how quickly we went from being totally incommunicado to collaborators. Remember the indoor plumbing I mentioned? Well, time had taken its toll and the pipes that carried the water through the house were all gummed up and needed to be replaced and Carolyn didn't have the money to do it."

"Claymore was the landlord — He should take care of that," Sean wrote furiously.

"Yes, he should have, but Carolyn's lease stipulated that she had to pay for all repairs. She couldn't think of any new story ideas, and I had dozens, based on my experiences at sea, so we wrote a story together. Remember what happened on the schooner Mary Anne in 1856?"

Sean nodded. "I remember you telling me about it. I couldn't make that voyage with you."

"That was 'our' tale. Carolyn tried to tone down the facts, telling me it was too risqué," Daniel continued. "But I knew her watered down version would never sell, so I rewrote the story, switched it secretly with hers, and mine was submitted instead. It was accepted and published immediately. Eventually, Carolyn discovered the change and maintained that she would never live the story down. The town thought she was a 'wild woman,' as I told the story in the first person from the stowaway's point of view." The seaman laughed again. "We did get some rather strange telephone calls there for a few days! That was great fun for me. It was the first time since Carolyn arrived that I was actually able to help Carolyn with something tangible that needed to be done around Gull Cottage. I'll never forget it – it was that little incident that made me think about getting Carolyn's help to write MY memoirs."

"Did you get your memoirs written?" Sean asked.

"No," the seaman shook his head. "We had only gotten a few chapters done when I left — woke up, I mean."

Sean shook his head, bemused. "I really would have loved to have visited you during your existence as a ghost and witnessed some of these things for myself."

"There was a great deal to see, I admit!" Daniel smiled. "I learned how much women have to do in the course of a day, a week — especially widows. We started a marvelous tradition, Carolyn and I — Tuesday afternoons with conversation and Madeira at sunset up in my wheelhouse — just to talk about our day, our work, our life (or past-life!) and just get to know each other better."

"You certainly had your share of adventures together!" Sean smiled, flexing his fingers. "A moment, Daniel. I need more paper and ink." Sean stood, and stretched again.

"There are more of both in that second drawer on the left," Daniel gestured, and he marveled to himself how quickly his "real world" was coming back to him. "We can continue this another time, if you wish."

"Not on your life!" Sean said, coming back with more writing equipment. "I'm afraid you may forget something. Now then . . ." Sean propped his feet up and dipped his pen into the bottle of ink sitting on the butler's table he had placed near the end of Daniel's bed. " . . . You were saying?"

The seaman adjusted his pillows. "Our first Christmas together was a quiet affair. The children were missing their grandparents, and although I had trouble reconciling myself to the thought, I know Carolyn was missing both her parents and her late husband. I persuaded Claymore to buy the children a few gifts for me, as Candy couldn't see me yet, and later that evening, I gave Carolyn her present — a gold locket that had belonged to my mother." Glancing up and seeing Sean scratching away, the seaman paused. "Am I going too fast again?"

Sean shook his head. "No. But I'd love to be using one of those . . . ball points? You spoke of. They sound extremely handy."

"Everything was sailing along quite smoothly when an old suitor of Carolyn's showed up," Daniel continued. "What a fair weather sailor . . . YES SAILOR!" he looked at Sean darkly, "that man was! A nere-do-well. Traveled around on that floating locomotive of his — his yacht. I can't believe the man had the nerve to call it a ship. He kept proposing to Carolyn — He wanted to take her away from the 'moldering museum' she was in, and then he called me an 'old duffer!"

Sean choked back a laugh. "You let him see you?"

"Of course not," Daniel sniffed. "He was looking at my portrait."

"The same one you said Carolyn called 'magnificent?'"

"Yes."

"Well that should have told you right there you had nothing to worry about as far as he was concerned."

Daniel smiled. "I never thought of that!" and then he frowned. "Carolyn accused me of being jealous."

"Well, you were, weren't you?" Sean asked, grinning.

"Jealousy is a disease of the flesh. I was not of the flesh. I was a spirit."

"You still seem pretty 'fleshy' to me, Daniel!" Sean reached over and punched his friend lightly on the arm.

"Perhaps you have a point, old boy — especially about my feelings for Carolyn! We had kind of a rough time of it for a little while after that. First, an old family friend convinced Carolyn to see a psychiatrist, who tried to tell her I was a figment of her imagination, then Jonathan's dog; Scruffy, decided he had it in for me. I'll never know why! Dogs and I have always gotten along famously, but not that scrappy little terrier! Then Scruffy disappeared. Jonathan was very upset." Daniel tugged his ear. "Somehow, Jonathan got the idea that perhaps I had something to do with it, because ghosts didn't have any feelings! I most certainly do have feelings! I was terribly hurt that he or Carolyn would consider such rot, but Carolyn came to her senses and realized that it was impossible that I could do such a thing. No sooner had I located Scruffy and solved that problem, than Carolyn's late husband's parents came for a visit."

"Uh-oh . . . Not a good sign. What did they want?"

"Her father-in-law was sure that Jonathan wasn't getting enough 'male influence' in his life, and tried to talk Carolyn into leaving Gull Cottage and coming back to Philadelphia. Thank God she had no intention of doing any such thing, but the dear lady didn't want to hurt them. Then, thanks to Jonathan, they got the mistaken idea that I was alive and courting Carolyn. If only that could have been true! I had to coach that dunderhead Claymore all night on how to be me, so they could see that Jonathan was getting quite enough male influence, and that Carolyn was happy. They were good people, and they meant well, but I don't think they ever would have understood a ghost in the house!"

"And everything was better after her in-laws left, Danny?"

Daniel shook his head. "Not hardly. Carolyn decided to take a position working outside Gull Cottage. She went to work for the Schooner Bay Beacon, and for none other that the great, great grandson of Lucias Finley! The man who libeled me! Publishing all over the front page of his paper that I killed myself! I'd like to thrash that man within an inch of his life! Daniel Gregg! A suicide!"

"But he didn't, Danny! Not really!" Sean said quickly. "Calm yourself. I am curious though. Why would Carolyn want to go work for the descendant of a man like that? If he . . ."

"She didn't know," the Captain replied. "I didn't tell her. I just tried to convince her to quit . . ."

"Which she didn't do, of course," Sean finished for him.

"No," said Daniel. "I see you are getting an idea of the kind of woman I was living with!"

"I'm learning!" Sean smiled. "Did you ever tell her about what his great-grandfather did?"

"Yes, eventually. But first I waited until the paper went to bed that week and sabotaged it, thinking that the pup wouldn't have the money from his advertising revenues to keep Carolyn on. But she stayed because she felt sorry for the boy, and worked herself to death for the next week, doing everything, while the pup did nothing. Finally, I think it was three days later, she came home very late, the children were already in bed and fast asleep, and I told her about my hundred-year-old grudge with Lucius Finley."

"And then she resigned her position?"

"No." He shook his head again. "She suggested a much better plan."

"What was that?"

"She persuaded Mark Finley to agree to print a small retraction of the story that ran the day after I . . . died, and then, with my help, found the proof that my death was an accident."

"Brilliant!" Sean laughed. "Your dream-woman sounds like she was not only beautiful, but very clever!"

"Oh, she was!" Daniel said quietly. "Carolyn finished up the week, and she had told me she was going to quit anyway, so I figured what the hell? And I went down and got busy at the newspaper again."

Sean O'Casey caught the glint in his friends' eye. "All right, Danny! What did you do?"

"I merely made the newspaper headlines saying that I HADN'T committed suicide as big as the headlines saying I HAD!" Daniel's eyes gleamed. "The retraction, and a story I wrote that same night, appeared on the front page of the Beacon — just as big as I could make it!"

"And what was Carolyn's reaction to that?"

"When the pup fired her, she tried to act upset, but I could tell she really wasn't." Daniel grinned. "Then when the story gained national interest, and Finley tried to hire her back. She declined the offer, and our life at Gull Cottage was back to normal!"

"Well, Daniel, I hesitate saying this, but your 'life' with Carolyn and her children sounds far from normal," Sean said, starting a fresh sheet. "Just look at all these notes! I tell you, I could write your adventures up as a novel and people would think I was daft."

"Or I am!" Daniel grinned. "But really Sean, there was a 'normal' to our lives, if you remember that I was dead!" Daniel looked over to the top of his empty desk, missing the photographs of the children. "It occurs to me I haven't talked to you much about Jonathan, Carolyn's son."

"Only about the day you met him and how he wasn't afraid of you," Sean said. "That and the misunderstanding about his dog. He was a good boy? Not spoiled, was he?"

Daniel almost glared at his first mate. "Jonathan was a marvelous lad — sensitive, bright, loveable, a credit to his family. We became fast friends! He kept seeking me out, spending time with me, and he talked about me, despite Candy's teasing about his 'imaginary Captain.' Before I knew it, I was teaching him how to fish . . . build ship models . . . He looked up to me, I know he did — as much as any son looks up to his . . . father."

"I'd say the feeling was mutual," Sean said softly.

"Oh, it was!" Daniel sighed. "I realized for the first time how close we were becoming when I disclosed too much about what I knew about John Adams from Temple Franklin."

"Sounds interesting," said Sean, pulling his pipe out of his jacket pocket. "May I?" he asked.

"By all means," Daniel shrugged. "It really wasn't fair — telling Jonathan about my knowledge of the past. The poor lad rewrote his prize winning history composition on my say-so, and after much to-do in the town, I realized that the only way I could set things right was to claim forgetfulness on my part and be something less than totally infallible. It was very difficult for me, but as Carolyn pointed out, It did help Jonathan picture me in a slightly more 'human' light, and I think Jonathan and I became even closer because of that incident. Then, a few days after that crisis was over, Carolyn came down with the Ague."

"Oh, no, Danny!"

Daniel held up his hand. "She was fine. Thanks to ME! The peep of a doctor that Martha called in, called it 'Virus X.' What a day I had! I was quite worried. I don't think Carolyn knew exactly how sick she really was. First I had to invisibly get Martha to see that Carolyn wasn't well, then I had to put up with that babe disguised as a doctor, and then I had to convince Claymore that I didn't want Carolyn to join me on the other side! I managed to whip up a batch of Willow Bark Golden Elixir . . ."

"Ah, that's what you meant when you told Doctor Feeney that . . ."

"Right," Daniel nodded. "I made it for Carolyn. It was the damndest thing, though. I must have made the potion a bit strong . . . Once Carolyn had recovered, I confessed to her what I had done — switching the peep's concoction for my own. I thought for sure she would be angry, but she wasn't . . . she just got this dreamy-eyed look about her and said she forgave me because I waltzed so beautifully! What I wouldn't have given to be able to waltz with her! At a cotillion, perhaps, or that lawn party I gave last year! What I have missed, Sean! What we have BOTH missed!"

"Carolyn is only a dream, Danny," his friend said softly. "You said so yourself. She's only a figment of your malaria-induced imaginings."

"So she was!" Daniel sighed. "But that doesn't make her any less real . . . not to me. I decided I wanted to do . . . no . . . create something for Carolyn — something more than giving her the shawl that I had bought for Vanessa, or a piece of scrimshaw, that only cost me a dollar. I wanted to give her something, create something just from me, and I wrote her a poem."

"Nice thought," Sean said. "You always have had a way of romancing the ladies . . . a great technique, my dear fellow!"

"I worked on it for more than a week, making sure it was just right. It took forever to present it to her, though! Every time I tried to read it to her, I was interrupted by something going on at the house. Finally one evening, after the children were in bed, I tried again, and we were blasted by loud music coming from the beach. To make a long story short, I made a rainstorm, which stranded a traveling minstrel. After thinking things through a bit, I decided that maybe it would be better to have Tim . . . Seagirt, that was the man's name, write a melody to go with my poem and he could sing it to Carolyn, instead."

"Did it work out? Did she like your poem . . . song?"

"Very much, I think, but I passed it off as something I wrote a long time ago."

"Why?" His friend looked at him, perplexed.

"Oh, I don't know. Carolyn seemed so touched. I suppose I just didn't want her to know how much I cared for her. I needed . . . WANTED her to understand, but I couldn't really 'declare my intentions — not like I would do immediately if she were alive in MY time!"

"I suppose so," Sean smiled sadly. "I keep forgetting you were a spirit, and Carolyn isn't real, anyway."

"I'm having the same problem, myself!" Daniel said. "Maybe that's why everything that happened the next year my family was at Gull Cottage is already starting to get hazy. There are parts I don't WANT to remember."

"Then you need to tell me quickly," Sean said hastily. "I don't want you to forget it until I have heard ALL of it! Let me get you some more water, or something else to eat. I have to hear the rest of your tale!"

"I'm fine," Daniel said. "Don't start mollycoddling me."

"All right," Sean answered, tipping back in his chair again, and he reached for more paper. "Continue with your dream, Please."

"Shortly after school was out for the summer, I decided it was time to tell Candy that I was there. I would have told her sooner, Sean, but she seemed rather frightened of the idea of a ghost, and I would never scare a little girl! I loved them all too much! Then one day, I decided the time was right."

"Danny! You didn't just appear to that poor little girl without warning, did you?"

Daniel looked insulted. "Of course not. I talked to Carolyn about it first, and waited until one afternoon, shortly after school was out, when Carolyn and Candy were home, but Jonathan was at a Scout meeting, and Carolyn introduced us." He smiled, reminiscently. "It turned out, Candy had discovered "for sure" that I was "really there" more than a month before I introduced myself, and was just waiting, in her words, "for me to stop being afraid to show my face!"

Sean started laughing. "You were told off by a little girl?"

"Well, yes!" Daniel was snickering too. "The little imp has as much spunk as her mother!" And the seaman's eyebrows formed a single line. "I really didn't have a chance to get to know Candy as quickly as I did Jonathan. Carolyn and the children went to Philadelphia on vacation. They had a good time, but . . ." The seaman paused for a moment and looked unhappy. "They were gone for over a month, all told, and I . . . I guess in some ways we had to get to know each other all over again when they returned."

Sean cocked an eyebrow. "How so, Daniel?"

"It's hard to explain," Daniel admitted. "My dream is getting fuzzier by the minute, but I think, after the poem I wrote for Carolyn, we both realized we had come to a crossroads. We knew how we felt about each other, but we also realized the hopelessness of our situation — That we couldn't be together, as we would have liked to be — that we WOULD be somehow if we had both been born in my time — or in hers! Yet . . ."

"Yet?"

"Yet I know we both cared each for each other too much for either of us to ever want to leave Gull Cottage for good."

"Danny!" Sean said, shocked, "Would you have left? Could you?"

"I never tried," Daniel admitted. "I couldn't. Instead, I became more private, more determined to keep my family shielded from society, but it seemed the harder I tried, (without ever admitting it to Carolyn or the children) the more they seemed to get involved in the happenings of the town."

"That must have been very difficult for you," Sean said, still writing.

"It was!" Daniel admitted. "The buffoon of a Gregg pretender, Claymore, seemed to pop up more often, for one thing. Always had some blasted reason or another for dropping by. For instance, there was the time he thought I had lost my ghostly powers and tried to get a few things past me, and again when Carolyn, the children and I were helping a runaway seal. I must admit, though, he did come in handy for a few things!"

"Such as?" Sean asked, dipping his pen into the ink again.

"That year the town of Schooner Bay did a re-creation of the Centennial celebration we had in September," Daniel explained. "Games, events, the lot. The ninny donated my silver service as a prize for the games!"

"The one in the parlor?" Sean asked.

"Yes, but by nineteen sixty-nine, it had long since been relegated to a sea chest. Claymore had somehow gotten hold of it," Daniel growled. "He donated it as a prize in the games and I made him win it back! Ended up 'possessing him to do it! Even using his flabby excuse for a body, I managed to win the games again. The strongest man in New England! There was a ball, and Claymore was to escort Carolyn. Why she took pity on him I can't imagine! The fool couldn't even dance. That evening, in the living room, before the ball, Carolyn tried to give him a few pointers, and I took the opportunity to possess Claymore for a few more moments and dance with Carolyn. Even through Claymore's body, holding her in my arms for that few minutes was sheer, unadulterated heaven . . ." Daniel broke off, uncomfortably, swallowed, and continued. "We never spoke of our waltz together after that night. Either of us. I think, as much as I know we both loved those few precious moments together, we were both made even MORE aware of how frustrating our situation was becoming!"

Sean nodded.

"Shortly after that, Carolyn started seeing men again," Daniel sighed, playing with his soupspoon. "I can't help but wonder if the two events were related! At first the men who came 'round to see her were nothing much to worry about — puny specimens at best, and of course completely unworthy of her, and I disposed of them easily enough. Then HE showed up!"

"Who?" Sean asked, puzzled. "Her old suitor from Philadelphia?"

"No . . ." Daniel growled. "Sean Callahan!"

"But Callahan's alive Daniel! He's not a figment of your imagination!"

Daniel shook his head. "No, not the Callahan you know. His descendant came to Gull Cottage, saying he was researching me! He had the temerity to say he was more than likely my great, great grandson, which of course he was NOT! He worried me more than I let on; Carolyn seemed so taken with this . . . this pale imitation of me, and although I never told her, I did worry! How could I hope to compete with a man that looked so much like me? That innocuous ancestor of a Callahan! But he was tangible, touchable, and ALIVE! Fortunately, Carolyn had enough sense to see him for what he was — an insincere devil, at best. I'm not sure any woman I know now would be sophisticated enough to spot him for who, and what he was."

"Carolyn sent him packing?" O'Casey queried.

"I encouraged him!" Daniel chuckled. "After I scared the life out of him! But Carolyn didn't complain as much as I thought she would." Daniel gave a satisfied smile. "She seemed . . . comfortable not seeing men after Callahan, but . . . we still had a few problems to work through."

"Such as?"

"It's hard to explain," Daniel said. "My life at Gull Cottage was getting more expanded — Carolyn had the PTA, and other committees she became involved with in town, Candy had her 'gang' as she called them, around more regularly, and of course she wanted to get to know me better. The PTA women talked Carolyn into running for the town council against Claymore Gregg, for example. She only did it to prove a point, and withdrew from the race before she was elected, but as much as it pains me to admit it, I think she could have won. It was a difficult time for me, Sean. Carolyn was becoming surer of herself — meeting people — running about — the uniqueness of our first year; the specialness and closeness just wasn't there in the same way. Our life wasn't private anymore. I suppose I thought that as long as Carolyn was tucked here away at Gull Cottage, with me, that our lives really wouldn't change. What rot! I felt the need to prove to Carolyn that I was NEEDED, and that she could and should look to ME for help and support. She, on the other hand, was striking out for independence, and I fought it every step of the way. She even interviewed a spiritualist once. Madame Tibaldi. The ninny Claymore tried to use her to exorcize me. It didn't work, naturally. The dear soul was harmless, but it was the first time in a long time that we both admitted that we could be wrong about something without it becoming a big blazing fight first. But I would rather fight with Carolyn than be ignored!"

"Ignored? You don't SOUND like you were being ignored, Danny. You sound very much as if you were an active, integral part of the household," Sean protested, flexing his fingers.

"I was, most of the time!" Captain Gregg smiled. "Jonathan's birthday party was held that November, at Gull Cottage. There must have been at least thirty children — making enough racket for a hundred seamen on shore leave."

"Oh, come now, Daniel!" Sean chuckled. "Aren't you exaggerating just a bit?"

"After the party, I decided that I had to show Carolyn and the children who was really still in command of Gull Cottage, and I set up a schedule for them to follow — strict discipline! That was what they needed! I expected an argument from Carolyn, but much to my surprise, she offered almost no resistance at all."

"And you showed her who was master?"

"She showed me, without realizing it," Daniel said. "Both the children and Carolyn left me strictly alone, following my schedule to the letter with no arguments. It took less than a day for me to realize that I had been much too hasty."

Sean looked at him intently. "You don't look very happy."

"I wasn't," Daniel agreed. "You know, I don't think it was until that awful week that I knew that, is spite of my protests to the contrary, that Gull Cottage wasn't a 'ship' any more — It was a home, with a family, and I wanted to be a participating member of it, not a bystander, or observer, or even the Captain of it."

Sean shook his head. "And how did you manage to get yourself out of that little predicament and get rid of the schedule and keep your dignity?"

"As it turned out, they were merely _pretending_ to follow my schedule. They were planning a birthday party for me, and everyone following the schedule kept me out of their way."

"Daniel, you must still be ill. Your birthday is in April, not November."

"Ah, but as I told you when I first woke up, I 'died' on November thirteenth, eighteen-sixty-nine, and the ninny gave the children that date, not the date I was born as my birthday. Carolyn's birthday present to me, even though it wasn't really my birthday at all was my schedule, torn up, and that was the end of that little escapade!"

"And your 'life' went on?" Sean asked.

"Yes — I was able to help the town at times, unseen of course, and I saved my property from being taken away for local improvement. I watched Candy go through her first crush, and talked Claymore into making some repairs and improvements to Gull Cottage, despite the lease Carolyn had signed, and then suddenly, it was Christmas again and I wanted that year to be different. I gave my family, even Claymore, a dream. I moved them back to my time — now I mean. Carolyn and I were in love, and planning to be married on Christmas Day. It was a beautiful dream, if I do say so myself! I finally got to live out my fantasy. Of course that could only really happen if Carolyn and I were occupying the same space and time, and it can't really happen because Carolyn is only an illusion, a figment of my imagination. I HAVE to keep telling myself that," Daniel said softly. _"Carolyn's only a dream."_

Neither the seaman nor his first mate spoke for a few minutes, and then the Captain continued. "The situation between Carolyn and I changed for the better after Christmas. I think, through the dream, we both faced facts about how we SHOULD have been together and how maddening it was that we couldn't be. Somehow, in spite of this, we started to make the best of it, even though it was even more frustrating when we knew I could take over Claymore's body for short periods. So close to alive, and within arms' reach of Carolyn, but not! Being able to dance together once, and hold her and kiss her in our Christmas dream together, made things worse. And although I would never tell Claymore Gregg, it really wasn't fair to him, me possessing him — and it was certainly frustrating for me! To be so close to Carolyn, yet so far away at the same time! So, instead, I tried to concentrate on civic improvement within Schooner Bay. I stopped the town being turned into a tourist attraction, corrected another error in the city records regarding my ancestor founding Schooner Bay Grammar School, and finally, because it was an emergency, I introduced myself to Martha, who took meeting a ghost much better than I thought she would, and finally arranged for a seaman's home to be built in Schooner Bay."

"That's what you meant before," his friend said, and shifted his position in his hard chair. "Sooo . . . I hate to sound repetitive, Daniel, but, what happened between you and your dream lady?"

Daniel sat up straighter in his bed and continued. "With so many of our differences now ironed out, I approached Carolyn about the idea of writing my memoirs, and she agreed. We had finished only two or three chapters when Carolyn's blasted cousin Harriet called and invited herself for a visit."

"I gather she was nothing like Carolyn?" Sean asked, starting a new sheet of paper — putting the previous sheet on the bed with the others.

"It's hard to believe they were related," Daniel frowned. "A more disagreeable, nosy, busybody I never have met! We didn't get a bit of work done on the memoirs from the moment Harriet set foot over the threshold. First she was determined that Carolyn was pining away for her life in Philadelphia, and kept comparing her to Joan of Arc. Finally I had enough, and managed to drop some clues that Carolyn was happy in Schooner Bay and involved with someone. I thought Cousin Harriet would go home happy at that point, but she continued to snoop instead, and erroneously deduced that Carolyn was seeing a 'Captain Gregg.' She asked Martha about me, and learned I had died one hundred years before, and concluded that Carolyn had gone over the edge, mentally."

"Did she want her to move back to Philadelphia?" Sean queried.

"That, and she was ready to send up an alarm that would have brought all of Carolyn's relatives to Gull Cottage, trying to rescue her!" Daniel knit his brows. "As much as I hated it, We had to bribe Claymore into acting as me — as he had when Carolyn's in-laws had visited the year before. I ended up possessing him again for a few moments, convinced Harriet that I was my own descendant, and Harriet left for home."

"And then?"

"Shortly after that, Carolyn heard from her parents," Daniel continued. "'Dear' Cousin Harriet had told them about the Captain she met, and when Carolyn tried to treat the matter lightly, her parents, Brad and Emily Williams, decided she was 'hiding something' and arrived at Gull Cottage to meet me."

"Did you show yourself to them?" Sean asked.

"No. Martha had learned about me by then and she and the children pretended Claymore was me, and HE met her parents instead."

"Sounds like a good solution," Daniel's shipmate said, massaging his cramping fingers and picking up his pen again.

"Then Carolyn's mother, thanks to a remark from Claymore, jumped to the conclusion that Carolyn was going to elope with me . . . Uhm . . . Claymore . . . _Captain Gregg,_ as she had with her first husband!"

"And were they upset?" Sean asked, with a smile.

"No. Carolyn's mother, Emily, a truly lovely woman, decided to surprise Carolyn with a 'real' wedding in town instead!" Daniel gave his friend a sad smile. "Minister, flowers, music, everything! How I wish that could have been so! But, alas, It couldn't be, so I told Carolyn what her mother had planned and suggested that her parents renew their matrimonial vows instead."

"That was a good idea," Sean remarked.

"I thought so," Daniel said. "It was beautiful. I stood by Carolyn invisibly that evening, through the entire ceremony, wishing with all my heart and soul that it could have been the two of us standing before the Reverend, exchanging vows, and I knew then, as I have never known before, alive or dead, that Carolyn was the only woman that I have ever wanted to share my life and my eternity with."

There was a very long silence, and then Daniel continued.

"That night, after Carolyn's parents had gone to bed, and my erstwhile great-nephew had officially given her the pearls I had picked out for her earlier that day, we stood out in front of Gull Cottage. I was still my dress uniform I had worn to her parent's wedding ceremony, and I . . . I asked her to call me Daniel."

"Daniel Gregg!" Sean said, astonished. "Two years with this woman, all the life and love you shared and you never called her by name to her face?"

"Once, but only in the dream I gave her for Christmas, and then to Martha, not her. Sean, I thought I . . . I was a ghost, remember? I didn't want her wasting her life with me."

"I don't think your lady would call it 'wasting,' Daniel. Or her children! You did love her, didn't you?"

"Of course," Daniel growled and placed his soup bowl on the night stand. "But I didn't have the right to claim her. Ghost or not, I was — am, a gentleman."

"Amazing dream, Danny!" Sean chortled. "Captain Daniel Gregg, the most sought-after bachelor in Schooner Bay, maybe the entire state of Maine, stymied by a woman, and a real firebrand, by the sound of it! Falling in love with an illusion! A woman you can't touch! A dream! Your story is definitely one for the books!" Sean looked at his friend sympathetically. "And then, Daniel?"

"I touched her."

"Daniel, you were a ghost. I thought said you _couldn't_ touch people."

"I was . . . I couldn't. But then suddenly, that night, I could, and when I touched her, and started to tell her how I felt about her, she pulled away — or maybe I was pulled away from her. I don't know. Then I was awake, and you and the doctor were leaning over me." Daniel Gregg sighed, heavily and his face grew dark. "Blast it, Sean! Damn cruel fate! I waited my lifetime and a century after my death, and finally found the woman I have been waiting and searching for all of my life and I couldn't touch her, or kiss her — only LOOK at her, and now I find out she was a dream. An incredible dream! I LOVE her, but I CAN'T love her because she's not real!"

Sean O'Casey stared silently at his friend, wondering what he could possibly say as some kind of comfort or assurance that everything would be all right.

"Sean, it's time that Captain Gregg got some more rest," Doctor Feeney said, entering the main cabin.

"Oh, but, Doctor Feeney . . . I want to hear more about Daniel's dream. You should hear some of it! It's amazing — the stories he has to tell! He could write a book, or I could. Really. But I don't know if anyone would believe it."

The doctor shook his head. "Not now, he doesn't. He needs to sleep."

Sean O'Casey gave his friend a look of sympathy. "Actually, I think right now sleep . . . and dreams are the last thing Daniel needs."

"You are still my patient, Captain, and I say what you need now is rest." The doctor said. "The hour is growing late, I'm tired and I still have other patients to see. I have arranged for my nurse to stay here and look after you. She'll stay in the housekeeper's quarters downstairs, of course, and Sean will be here with you at least some of the time, but you need someone to tend to you here ALL the time, at least for another week while you get your strength back."

"I don't need a nurse, Blast it! I have never been beholden to any woman, anywhere, at any time, and I will not start now!" Daniel was bellowing, "I just want to be left alone!"

"Captain . . ." Doctor Feeney began.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Daniel said, his voice insistent. "I feel fine."

"You are NOT fine, Captain. You are ill — or at least BEEN ill. You've had deliriums. You don't know what you need. I say that you . . ."

"I will not be mollycoddled, blast it! I will not have it!"

The doctor sighed, defeated. "Well, if you don't feel you need a nurse, I can't force you to have one, but you'll have to be the one to tell her. I can't do it. She only just arrived here in Schooner Bay — last week, just before you were taken ill. She's a good nurse and she needs the work. She's downstairs now, cleaning up a few things for me before I leave. If you won't use the intelligence you were born with, and accept her services, it's not my fault. But I will not be responsible. Here she comes, Captain! YOU tell her!"

The seaman looked as the nurse pushed open the bedroom door, entering the room backwards, her arms full, carrying a load of fresh sheets and towels, and as she turned around, Daniel Gregg stared at the woman, open-mouthed. She looked back at him silently, first respectfully and then questioning, wondering what the seaman was staring at. Finally, she turned away slightly; blushing under his steady gaze, then looked back at him, stubbornly, thrusting her chin out.

"Danny?" Sean asked, "Is everything's all right?"

Daniel smiled slowly and he momentarily shifted his glance to his friend.

"Oh yes," he said softly, a look like pure sunlight coming to his haggard face. "Everything's _perfect._" And he turned again toward the beautiful, emerald-eyes of Carolyn Muir.


End file.
